Maps

Well done, M. 

My 4-year-old granddaughter already loves to write. 

When I was a preschool kid, I drew. I loved to draw maps: houses and roads and streets and rivers and ponds and trees all from a bird's eye view. I believe my grandparents had an atlas which introduced this concept. So I drew my maps and told stories about the people who lived there. I'd say that's early writing too, or as it's sometimes called in the education field, "dwriting." One might call it simple imaginative play too, but it's also a solid form of therapy. 

When I did begin writing with letters, you might think I wrote the stories conjured from my maps. Nope. I wrote lists. When our family traveled, I would list the name of every town and city and roadside attraction we encountered as well as the odometer reading at each location. (Call me early google maps, ha.) When my parents discussed those trips with company later, they would use my list to recall details. I finally had an audience. This thrilled me. Always the odd kid out, I suddenly had an identity in my family. 

Eventually, my lists became more complex and—thanks to TV and Stephen King's books—typically morbid. There was no audience for this phase. I would write a list of character’s names then cut them in strips to prepare for a random draw to discover which one would be disfigured in a terrible accident or who would lose his mind (or hand) and be sent to an institution for the criminally insane or join a circus. I recall being completely rapt by these lists and stories. Time dissolved. I once wrote an entire lifetime of a set of characters in a point form list. 

You might think I really enjoyed all the writing assigned in school. I did enjoy it; I didn’t take it seriously though. They didn’t want lists. And I wasn’t a particularly skilled writer either. My teachers constantly pointed out that I would often leave the “y” off the word “they.” Here’s a sample sentence: “The enjoyed the trip the took to the Rocky Mountains.” Not so smooth, eh? 

Eventually, I studied writing in both my undergrad and graduate degrees. I love teaching writing strategies to kids, and yes, they typically involve drawing, and other easy-access approaches. I want to assist them in unlocking and sorting their thoughts, ideas, and feelings. I now know that writing is just one option in the positive psychology toolbox. 

Most of my writing now is (once again) therapeutic. For an overthinker like me, it's seeking solace, and like those maps, helps make my journey more meaningful than melancholy. 

Dear blogger friends, when did you begin writing? Why? For what purpose? 

Constructing

iron wheels waiting in
my son's yard for something more

My son works in the trades. He builds things, always has. It's about math and physics for him. First he obsessed about Lego, then wood, then technology, then guitar, then sheet metal, then iron. My favourite of his creations? He welded an iron bird house, lol. The humour's mine, but the skill? It's genetic, thanks to my Dad. 

I've welded exactly zero projects, so I guess that means it skipped a generation? Not really, I build things with words (and sometimes other ingredients too). The grandfather, this father, the son—our default mode is creative but preferred mediums are personal.

Why this craving? It's a problem-solving fixation. Like my Dad, my son applies this skill to things, then enjoys that accomplished feeling. Similarly, I like to apply problem-solving to ideas and behaviours. If you read this blog, my (over) thinking obsession with comprehending this confusing world might be obvious. So...if you're still reading this, I applaud you. 🤣

I mention this because I just finished reading The Molecule of More. The molecule in question? Dopamine. The book clarifies the difference between dopamine and those other handy brain chemicals/hormones: serotonin, oxytocin, endorphins. In a nutshell, the latter three are here-and-now orientated whereas dopamine is future orientated. Hence the first three react to novelty and affect daily mood. They are released when we experience those so-called little things in life: walking in the sunshine, petting a purring cat, and a spicy chai latte. But dopamine? It's about anticipation.

Dopamine motivates us to leverage resources to achieve/complete something pleasurable, something not yet attained, something more. Dopamine is all those coins Mario collects BUT especially leveling up. It drives addiction and creativity and it is both taxing and gratifying. Furthermore, some brains are apparently wired to be more here-and-now while others are dopamine forward: my father, me, my son. That's why completing this paragraph—after much drafting, re-reading, redrafting, and revising—provided the dopamine hit I sought. I hope that makes sense. 

A final detail about the book: there's a chapter on harmony and what we should know about dopamine and mental health. Not surprisingly, we need a balance between here-and-now needs and future-orientated wants. Guess what occupation most helps us humans achieve that? Construction. Essentially, although our brains default to dwell in immediate rest, relaxation, and delight, it's being productive that promises more durable happiness. 

Dear blogger friends/creatives, it seems to me that this is why we blog. As we react/write/sort/tell about the (chaotic) here and now, it helps us construct a hoped-for future. 

What are you constructing?